


The Meanings of Dreams

by glitterburn (orphan_account)



Category: Red Cliff
Genre: M/M, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-01
Updated: 2010-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:39:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/glitterburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Dreams are but thought’</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meanings of Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pyrefly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyrefly/gifts).



Since Zhuge Liang came to Wu, Sun Quan has dreamed strange dreams. Landscapes illuminated by sunlight, a phoenix perched in a parasol tree, men wearing his face slaughtering pigs. He wakes from these dreams with tightness in his chest, a breathlessness that makes him ache. He doesn’t know if this is optimism or desire.

Even dressed like a drab sparrow, Zhuge Liang is beautiful. His eyes are bright, his smile quick, his tongue quicker. He is polite and demure, as befits a messenger, but he is also outspoken. Sun Quan feels his gaze every time they meet. Even when they don’t speak, Zhuge Liang is most loquacious, reminding Sun Quan of his presence and purpose.

Sun Quan ponders the alliance as he lies in his yellow-draped bed. He knows what his decision will be, has known it from the moment Zhuge Liang stood in the audience hall and spoke of shame and virtue, but he has no faith in his judgements and waits for his ministers to talk themselves into agreement.

His brother would not have hesitated. Sun Ce was never unsure about anything. He met even death with certainty, but Sun Quan isn’t like that. Every time he feels the rise of confidence in a matter, it’s tempered by caution, by a need for justification. Perhaps because he was the second son, the scholarly son, the child praised for his theoretical knowledge rather than its practical application, he understands both sides of an argument and needs to foresee the consequences before he acts.

His dreams tell him all will be well. He knows the alliance with Liu Bei will make him stronger. But he’s not ready yet, and fears his temperament will lead him into error.

Sun Quan wishes he could be spontaneous like his brother. This business with Zhuge Liang disturbs him. Not the alliance, but the attraction between them. Sun Ce would call the strategist to his quarters, drink with him, then invite him to bed. It would be that simple. Sun Quan knows it wouldn’t be simple if he tried the same method. He would lose his poise, forget his dignity, fumble his words, and invite Zhuge Liang’s disgust, or worse, his pity.

The open approach is a closed path. Sun Quan considers his options and decides to commit his pursuit to a more subtle means. He will write to Zhuge Liang.

Before he summons the servants to dress him and oil his hair, Sun Quan sits at his lacquered writing desk and prepares fresh ink. He hesitates over which brush to use, whether to write upon bamboo slips or paper. He wants the letter to be anonymous until he chooses to reveal himself. It’s safer that way.

He chooses paper, then puzzles over what to write. A poem? Perhaps not; his choice would surely give away his identity. Sun Quan unlatches the window and stares out at the kingdom spread beneath him. Clouds scud low across the sky, but the sun dazzles, bathing Wu in its warmth. Guided by inspiration, he writes about the last dream he had—the sunlight, the phoenix, the pigs.

The letter is given to a servant with instructions to pass it on to another servant, then another, and again another and another, until the one who delivers the message cannot possibly know from whence it came. Any reply is to come back the same way.

Sun Quan dresses, eats breakfast, meets with his ministers. He tries not to think of the letter being passed from hand to hand, through side-palaces and bureaus. He sits in the audience hall and attends to business with perfect calm, but inside he waits in a frenzy of anticipation.

*

The reply comes sooner than he expected. Before the evening meal, Sun Quan retires to his rooms to change and finds the letter placed across his _go_ board. He snatches up the message and opens it eagerly. Smoothing the paper, he admires the bold calligraphy, scanning the text without taking it in. Once the rush of excitement has faded, Sun Quan reads it again, properly this time:

 _I do not know how to address you, so please forgive my lack of formality—_

 _You do not know the wisdom of the Duke of Zhou? His works can provide interpretations more accurate than my humble readings. But perhaps you do not trust your own interpretations, and neither do you trust the interpretations of those around you, which is why you turn to me, a stranger, in the hope of uncovering the truth._

 _Your dream bodes well. Not a single sign of bad luck troubles your mind. Sunlight is favourable to your enterprises. The phoenix brings advice from a noble lord. Slaughtering pigs is a symbol of good fortune. Based on this dream alone, I would dare to envy you. But perhaps you have other dreams that balance this one._

*

Sun Quan reads the letter five times before he’s ready to make a response. He had a moment of concern when he read the first part of the message, but the second part proves an irresistible lure. The final sentence is not phrased as a question, but a question is implicit within the words, and Sun Quan can’t help but answer it:

 _Now it is my turn, Master Zhuge, to beg your forgiveness. I hope you don’t mind that I conceal my identity from you. Perhaps it is vanity that brings me to write in secret, or perhaps, as you suggest, it is merely because I wish for an honest discussion on matters of little significance._

 _You are quite right: I have had other dreams. I remember them all—a curious ability that dates back to my childhood. In my younger years I used to keep a record of my dreams, but these days it seems too much like pretension._

 _However—this is my dream: The moon rises over an empty town. I walk towards it over a zigzag bridge, but as I draw closer to the town, I see the bridge is broken. Somehow I find my way across the bridge and enter the town, and then I see a fire break out in a house. I run to the well and draw up water, thinking to put out the flames, but the water in the bucket is thick and clouded. I stand and watch the house burn, and in the dream I feel elated at the sight._

 _Share your knowledge of the Duke of Zhou’s wisdom with me once more. Tell me the meaning of my dream._

*

 _Dreams are never of little significance_ , Zhuge Liang replies the following morning. _My friend, I think you toy with me. I think you’re well aware of the meanings of your dreams. But perhaps I do you a disservice, and so—forgive me, but this dream is the opposite of the one you last related. An empty town foretells your death by foul means. A broken bridge signifies broken promises and damages that will be brought against you. Cloudy water in a well represents danger. And yet—and yet... the burning house symbolises prosperity. All is not lost, you see. There is hope even in the darkest hour._

 _And no, I don’t believe it’s vanity. You are not a vain man. Your dreams tell me that much._

*

Excited fear clutches at Sun Quan when he reads this letter and realises Zhuge Liang knows he’s a man. Not that he’d ever truly thought that Zhuge Liang would believe him to be a woman, but until that statement, the potential was there, giving Sun Quan the luxury of an extra layer of disguise. He worries, too, that he’s giving too much of himself away with every letter he sends, yet now the correspondence has started, he doesn’t want it to stop.

He waits half a day before he responds. One more message won’t hurt. It’s not like he’s saying anything of importance, despite what Zhuge Liang says. He describes his latest dream of temples and tombs and snakes in a clear mirror, and sends it.

Today Zhuge Liang will journey to the encampment at Red Cliff to meet with Zhou Yu. There will be no more letters for a while. Sun Quan resigns himself to waiting. He must be content with the two letters tucked beneath the _go_ board.

*

The following morning, Sun Quan sits half drowsing in the audience hall while his ministers argue around him. The scented heat of a brazier has lulled him into a placid state of mind, and he’s almost enjoying the drone of voices passed back and forth. He watches the shadow of the palace walls shrink as midday draws closer, then he sits up straight, blinking, as a dove lands gracefully onto the wall outside the audience hall.

The bird struts up and down, offering an amusing diversion from politics, and then Sun Quan notices something odd. He gets to his feet, the beads of his headdress clacking together with the suddenness of his decision. His ministers fall flat on their faces as he passes them by, then they rise again in a questioning, murmuring wave as he strides from the audience hall and puts out a hand to the bird.

Bright-eyed and trusting, the dove flutters onto his wrist. A small slip of paper is furled tight around its right leg. His heart pounding, Sun Quan ushers the bird back onto the wall before he unfastens the paper. The calligraphy is tiny, but unmistakably it’s a note from Zhuge Liang.

 _Highness_ , it begins, and Sun Quan gasps out loud.

The ministers rush to his side but he bats them away, crumpling the message into his fist without daring to read more. “Feed this bird,” he says, voice hoarse. “Bring seed for it. Then let it fly where it wills.”

Ignoring the ministers’ chatter, Sun Quan turns and walks away, his pace clipped, the note still clutched tight in his hand. He goes to his private quarters and drops the message onto the _go_ board. For a while he stares at it, unable to bring himself to read the rest of it. How had he given away his identity? Was he really that easy to read? Or was it true after all that Zhuge Liang was a Taoist magician?

Finally he opens the note and reads:

 _Highness—_   
_Your dream offers nothing but the most auspicious signs. Visiting a temple is a fortunate symbol. Beholding a new tomb carries the same meaning. A clear mirror also suggests good fortune. The snakes refer to a devious plan. Your way forward, or so your dreams tell me, is to trust your instincts. I am not immodest enough to believe I am the snakes in your mirror, but if not I, then someone else will present you with a strategy to bring you and the kingdom of Wu ease and good fortune. There will be hardships and danger, as your previous dream told you, but in the end you will be victorious._

 _I do not think any of my interpretations are unfamiliar to you, my lord. All the same, I thank you for the honour of being permitted the revelation of your most intimate and spontaneous thoughts. If you have any other dreams to share with me, I will do my humble best to give you my most honest opinion._

Sun Quan curls his fingers over the note. The familiar feelings of hope and desire crush inside him. Before he can think better of it, he reaches for paper and brush and writes a reply:

 _I dream of you._

His honesty makes him anxious, but nevertheless he leaves the letter in Zhuge Liang’s room and waits for his return from Red Cliff.

*

Three nights later, Zhuge Liang returns to the palace accompanied by Zhou Yu.

Sun Quan pretends nonchalance throughout Zhou Yu’s report on the Wu army’s state of readiness. Zhuge Liang is absent from the meeting, but Sun Quan feels his presence within the palace and gives tiny, inward flinches whenever Zhou Yu mentions the Shu strategist by name.

His distraction is noted. Zhou Yu drops his formality and comes closer, adopting the tone of an elder brother. “My lord, your thoughts run across your face. I do not doubt your wisdom and would urge you to put aside any hesitations you may have. A decision needs to be made soon, and whether you are for this alliance or against it, know that I will support you no matter what.”

“Thank you.” Sun Quan can barely manage a smile.

“The atmosphere in the palace is hardly conducive to clear thinking.” Zhou Yu’s expression is wry. “Perhaps you should take some time away from the ministers. We could arrange a hunting party. It would give you chance to breathe.” A smile. “Your sister would enjoy it, too.”

Sun Quan chuckles. “Very well. Soon. We’ll go hunting soon.”

Zhou Yu takes his leave shortly after, bidding his lord goodnight. The guards withdraw and the candles burn down. The timekeeper walks through the palace calling the hour of the Rat.

Dressed in his nightclothes and with his hair loose over his shoulders, Sun Quan remains awake. He knows it’s foolish, but he’d hoped for a reply tonight. Wanted it. Expected it. He pictures Zhuge Liang’s reaction to his letter and tries to ignore the tight ball of shame in the pit of his stomach. He should never have admitted so much—not to a man of Shu, not to a strategist. He wishes he could undo what he has done.

A soft footfall sounds outside his door. There’s a gentle knock, then Zhuge Liang enters, a letter in his hands. He kneels and bows, offering up the letter. “I thought it best to deliver this myself.”

Sun Quan tries to tame the flutter of anticipation, tries to look severe. “You are very bold.”

“Forgive me, Highness.” Zhuge Liang sits back on his heels and looks up, his eyes bright. “We men of Shu are encouraged to be bold, to speak our minds and pursue the things we desire.”

The words beat at Sun Quan. He freezes, recovers, snatches the letter. His hands tremble as he opens it. Inside it’s blank. Startled, confused, offended, he thrusts it at Zhuge Liang. “This—what is the meaning of this?”

Zhuge Liang continues smiling. “What do you see?”

Sun Quan studies the letter again and sees his own worst fears staring back at him. “I see nothing,” he says. “I read rejection.”

Reaching out, Zhuge Liang takes the message. He strokes his fingers across the paper. “I see nothing,” he says softly, holding Sun Quan’s gaze, “and I read possibilities.”

Sun Quan’s eyes widen. Hardly daring to believe, he casts the letter aside and pulls Zhuge Liang up from the floor and into his arms.

*

Early the next morning, they wake and gaze at one another with the curiosity of new lovers and the ease of old friends.

“Did you dream, Highness?” asks Zhuge Liang.

Sun Quan smiles, certain and confident. “No, Kong Ming. I didn’t dream at all.”


End file.
